It’s Not Me, It’s You...Actually, It’s Totally Me
Or, Why I’ve Been Afraid to Get Pregnant.
It’s you. It’s totally you. It’s taken me a long time to admit this, but the reason I’ve been afraid to get pregnant isn’t fear of my body changing, or loss of sleep, or keeping a kid alive...it’s you.
Anyone who reads MiC knows I have issues. Lots and lots of issues. We all do, but I air mine via blog because it’s the only place where I feel like I can be brutally honest. My issues around making a baby are complex, but largely boil down to anger, and fear of other people.
Fear of:
What you think.
What you feel.
What you want from me or my kiddo.
What you will do.
How you will exert your will on me and my child.
It takes a village to raise a kid? Well I’m an island, and I like being alone. I used to think it was a bad thing but I’ve accepted that part of me and don’t want to change. I like my own company. I like figuring things out for myself. I like forging my own trail. That doesn’t mean I don’t need help, but I want and need to trust myself and my body first.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up.
Last year I wrote the sassy little number My Womb, My Business because I felt like everyone was suddenly watching for a baby bump because I gave up alcohol for five months. As if it was assumed—nay, expected—that my ambition as a wife was to procreate--pronto! It wasn’t. I won’t rehash it all here because I’ve said it before. Nothing has changed since then.
It sucks when you’re made to feel wrong for your choices by people who are supposed to love and support you for who you are, not who you could be or who they want you to be. There were precious few people--you know who you are--that I could share my genuine feelings with because there were precious few people who didn’t smack me with their judgments for waiting to have kids.
Over the years, what started as annoyance grew into something of a defiant determination NOT to give anyone the pleasure of my offspring. As my health started to improve and the Chiari lessened its grip, I was too damn angry to think about making a baby because it still felt too much like what other people wanted for me, rather than what I wanted for myself. In fact, I was so pissed by the hurts—real and perceived—that I was disgusted at the thought of the joy on your faces when I finally broke the news that I was pregnant.
Did I mention I have issues?
Well, much to my surprise and my hubby’s delight, and despite being born without that “Mom” gene, my desire to have a kid finally surpassed my anger and resentment. And...
I’m pregnant.
To become the best damn vessel for my little seedling as possible, I’m working through my anger issues.
Recently, I came across a recording of a talk by Louise Hay, author of You Can Heal Your Life, that focused on responsibility and forgiveness; taking 100% responsibility for our life experiences, and forgiving anyone and everyone, including ourselves, that we need to forgive.
In the interest of radical responsibility, I started thinking about you. All of you who wittingly or unwittingly caused pain or made me feel inadequate, or somehow wrong for doing things my way. I realized that most of you didn’t mean any harm. Most of you were just excited about the prospect of another kid around, because—when they’re someone else’s and they’re not assholes—kids are great. I get it. And my heart was so full of fear and the need to protect myself that I got super offended by the smallest gesture, and built the walls of my island even higher, hoping to keep you out.
And that’s not fair.
The truth is, I can’t control you. I can’t control what you think, feel, do, or say. I can only control my response to you.
I can’t ask you to change who you are, any more than you have changed me into the person you thought I should be. And that’s OK. But we can go forward in mutual respect, and enjoy the little squid together once it’s born.
(But just try exerting your will on us, and so help me God…)
(Obviously) there’s still some residual anger, and I’m working through it. I’m sure my womb is getting brighter and cushier by the day. In light of this new way of thinking, I want to say I’m sorry.
I thought it was you, but it wasn’t. It was me. My anger. My fear. My choice to take everything so damn personally.
I take that back. It’s MOSTLY me. Judging by the responses I get whenever I share posts like My Womb, My Business, where women flood the comments section with their own stories about how they were made to feel inadequate for their choices on when to make babies, I think some of it actually IS you. The conversation needs to change. I stand by everything I’ve ever said; a woman’s fertility, pregnancy status, and life choices are nobody’s business but hers (and her partner’s). Have compassion. Be respectful. And for the love of all that is holy DON’T ASK US IF WE’RE PREGNANT.